


Fireflies and Fresh Cut Grass

by oh2hell



Category: Supernatual
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:55:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh2hell/pseuds/oh2hell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One memory that's stuck with Dean for many years....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireflies and Fresh Cut Grass

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea of the boys being happy so... Yeah :D Happy Halloween! (I know, I kind of failed in the halloween scary-ness department......)

The smell of fresh cut grass always brought Dean back to these memories in his particularly weak moments.

The one that always came first was that one night in summer, or fall, Dean couldn't really remember, when he and Sam were walking down the street. They were squatting in a house up the road while Dad took a hunt. They were kind of in the middle of nowhere, and they were all by themselves. The Winchesters had been here for about two weeks now, and they'd only met one or two people on the streets. One of them was a seemingly crotchety old farmer who fit every stereotype ever said about men in the deep South. He had a brown and red plaid shirt on, tucked into the worn leather belt holding up a pair of threadbare jeans. The frayed hem of his pants brushed across the top of the foot of his muddy old cowboy boots that looked like they'd seen some hell. He had a wide brim straw hat that sat low on his forehead and shaded a face that was cut out of leather.

Dean didn't really know how he remembered every detail of this man, but he knows why Sammy might have. The boy was taken to this man as soon as he met him. He was fourteen and old enough to know all about those whole "don't talk to strangers" rules, but Sammy wasn't a stickler for rules when he was just around Dean. 

The man had been meandering (there was really no other word for it) down the road looking over the wheat field to his left when he and the boys came across each other. The man tipped his hat and kept on walking, two Aussies playing at his heels. Dean didn't know if Sam remembered the guy because of his dogs or what, but he remembered him alright. 

The grass smell was associated with the man's front lawn. He had seen the boys again, coming the other way, and had said that they "looked like two good, strong boys" and asked if they could help him out. Being the adorable shit he was, Sam had leaned forward onto the balls of his feet, bounced up and down and agreed before he even knew what the favor was. It was kind of dangerous, but Dean was really too amused to care. Plus, he had his gun in his waistband and a couple knives stashed around his body that not even Dad knew about. Sammy did, but no one else. The old man, Perkins as Dean learned later, "needed all'f 'is guys for help around the farm, so they never really got to the front yard of his house". Sam, remembering his shyness for a moment, settled back on his heels and dipped his head. 

"S-Sir, I would lo- I would be happy to help but I don't have a lawnmower." All of Sam's words came out in a rush. It was like someone had told Sam that his best friend was really an evil puppy kicker. The laugh that burst out of this gentle mannered guy startled both Sam and Dean, enough that Sam jumped back half a step. Slapping a hand to his stomach Perkins wiped his eye with the other. "Sonny, you think I'd offer ya the job 'n ain't got none 'quipment ta loan ya? I gots plenny for ya."

"Oh- Oh alright. Sure!"

~~

Dean had driven his Dad's old truck up Perkins's dusty old drive and had barely gotten it in park before Sam was out the window. The door had been stuck all summer. A soft old woman banged out the screen door of the farmhouse to meet the boy running towards her. They almost collided on the wooden steps with peeling white paint before Dean could catch up to Sam. Grabbing Sam by the back of his collar and yanking him back, he apologized to the old woman, Mrs. Perkins. "Sorry ma'am, this one can get a bit excited sometimes." Dean was wearing his best 'I'm innocent love me' face on, but he was twisting the back of Sam's shirt up in his fist like he was trying to rip a hole in it. He did hear a few fibers stretch.

"Oh, sweetie don't worry none. I love to see y'all yunnans runnin' 'round like that. Reminds me of my younger days." The woman's voice was pleasant. Dean picked Sam up off his heels a little bit before he let go of his shirt, eliciting a small yelp of defiance from his little brother. "Which one of y'all is gonna mow my lawn?" Mrs. Perkins said, playfully. 

"This one here, ma'am. His name is Sam. He can be kind of shy sometimes, but once you get him workin' he sure works hard." Dean pushed Sam toward the woman. "Go on Sammy, say hi, and try not to knock anyone down these stairs." Mrs. Perkins laughed at that.

"Heya Sam, I'm Mrs. Perkins. If ya want you can call me Addaline." The woman's sweet smile opened Sam's own up a bit. He ducked his head, hair covering his eyes (Dean really had to get a hold of that kid when scissors were handy). 

"Hi Mrs. Perkins." 

The woman beamed, some small achievement gained. "Well, Mrs. Perkins, I have to go do some work for my father. What time should I come by and get my little brother? I could give you my cellphone number if you would like. Or just send him home when he's finished. We're only a mile or two up the road." Dean began to reach into his back pocket to hand Sam a pocket knife when Addaline wasn't looking. 

"He's alright honey, you run along and don't get into none trouble with your pappy, ya hear?"

"Yes ma'am, Mrs. Perkins."

~~

It was starting to get dark when Dean decided he was going to go ahead and swing by the Perkins' place to check on Sammy. When he got there the lawnmower was sitting forgotten by the stairs, the dogs tumbling together around it, and his little brother was sitting on the peeling paint, happily gnawing on something and watching the Aussies play. Knowing Sam the stuff in his hands was like a head of lettuce or something. Dean put the truck in park, hopped out, and plunked down next to his little brother. The smell of freshly cut grass was almost overwhelming, but it was sort of refreshing. Putting his arm around Sam's shoulder, Dean pulled him in to rub at his head with his knuckles. "Gross man, you're all sweaty. Couldn't you have stayed like, not disgusting?" The grass smell wafted off of Sam as well, his clothes were covered in green residue. 

"Shut up, Dean!" Sam was laughing and squirming around, but he didn't really seem like he wanted to leave Dean's arms anytime soon. The screen door behind them banged open and Mrs. Perkins came out with a couple glasses of lemonade. 

"Want somethin' to drink boys?" Both of them happily grabbed a glass, dutifully saying their 'thankyous' before starting to drink. Sam had his chugged down in no time, so Dean gave him the rest of his.

~~

When the boys left the Perkins's farm twenty dollars richer, (Sam, that honest bastard, tried to turn the money down... It was originally forty bucks they could have scored) Dean decided to take the long route home. Dad wasn't there to yell if they got back a bit late. With the windows down they cruised around until they came to a gravel road leading towards a nearby lake. By this time it was fully dark outside, and the starts were shining. The only light that they had to drive by besides their own weak headlights was the energetic shine of the moon, and the only sounds that accompanied them was the chirping of crickets, the wind in the windows, and Sam's own sporadic humming. Halfway through the drive he had laid his head in Dean's lap, and he was now tracing small patterns into the worn knee of Dean's jeans.

After about twenty minutes they came upon the lake. When Dean turned the corner, it was suddenly /there/. The moon and starts reflected perfectly off the nearly still waters, only disturbed by a few ripples in the water caused by the wind. Gently pushing Sam up, Dean hopped out of the truck and went around to the bed to grab a blanket. As an afterthought he grabbed two, it was getting chilly and next to the water it was probably gonna get worse.

When Sam and Dean had set up their one blanket on the ground, settling themselves much like they were sitting in the truck, Sam started to sing softly. He wasn't the best singer, but his voice was still high enough that it sounded alright when it was all whispery like it was. Soon the bullfrogs joined back into the song, the arrival of the newcomers not so interesting anymore. The crickets, feeling kind of left out Dean assumed, started chirping loudly, like they were providing background music. Dean guessed the fireflies didn't know about the party 'till later, because it was a few minutes before they started their dance. They waltzed in the sky, putting on a show for just Dean and his little brother. Dean had never been so full of love, so peaceful. He could stay like this for days. It was like he was in his own little world with the most important thing in his life curled up on his lap. Dean was happy. It was such a rare occurrence that he was this /genuinely/ happy that Dean couldn't help but feel a little wonder.

The smell of freshly cut grass wafted up towards Dean every time Sam shifted. 

Eventually they both fell asleep, Dean laying flat on the blanket with Sam's head on his chest. Dean woke up once in the middle of the night to Sam's shifting movements, but other then that he was content.

**Author's Note:**

> So, idk how this is really. I feel like I might have made this way to long but I think I like it? Let me know what y'all think!


End file.
